A Time-Traveling Vampire
by the real narnia
Summary: After the battle of L.A., Spike wakes up hundreds of years into the future, with no memory of what happened after that fateful day. He lives on to become a Time Agent, becoming partners with a man named Jack Harkness, and becoming a time traveler in hopes of finding Buffy and discovering what happened over the years he's missing. (Basically, Spike is John Hart).
1. Part One - Past

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. **

**Please check out my tumblr: the-real-narnia**

**And I will post a Playlist when I'm done, but for now, try listening to: The Lonely by Christina Perri and To Build A Home feat. Patrick Watson by the Cinematic Orchestra.**

**Enjoy! And please review.**

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><p>Part One - Past<p> 


	2. Chapter One: The Last Day on Earth

**Chapter One – The Last Day on Earth**

Spike knew that it was his last day on Earth.

The last time he had died, back in Sunnydale, with the amulet, he hadn't had as much of a fair warning. Not really. He had known that he might die, but he never really looked at it as his last day on earth.

But he hadn't gotten the 'day off', as Angel said.

But this time he did. He had one last day on earth to do whatever he wanted, and to tell the truth, he couldn't really think of anything.

So he started off getting really, really, drunk.

Or trying to. It was kind of hard to get drunk after drinking so much alcohol for centuries. The only _real_ way to get drunk was to feed from a human who was drunk, but he wasn't going to do that. He didn't really want to get drunk; he just wanted to feel the familiar taste of alcohol as it burned down his throat, the spark of courage it enacted in him.

When he was 'drunk' enough, he made his way to a poetry bar. Drink in one hand, his low, deep voice read off the poetry he had written for Cecily, one that he had always remembered. He wasn't expecting the audience to actually like it, especially after being called 'William the Bloody Awful Poet' – he was so glad that history had dropped the last two words – but he kept going, and spent most of the day reading his poetry, the ones he had written over a hundred years ago, and the ones that he'd written a couple of months ago, watching Buffy. She could never know, of course.

And then, at the very end, before he headed out to destroy part of the Circle of the Black Thorn, he sat, and he wrote a letter.

He read it over, several times. And he was sure that it said just what he wanted it to. And then at the end he signed it. Love, Spike. William, 'The Bloody Awful Poet' Pratt.

And then, before he could stop himself, he sealed the letter in an envelope, wrote Buffy's address in Italy on it, and put it in the mail.

And then he walked away.

* * *

><p>Angel had told them to meet in the alley behind the Hyperion, if they were still alive and they were going to fight against the Senior Partners.<p>

Spike got there first, waiting in the alley for the other to show. Angel showed up quickly after, and Spike told him that no one else had showed up.

They could both feel the battle coming, and that's when Spike really knew that he was at the end. But he was okay. He was going down fighting, saving the world, right next to Angel. It only felt right. It had started with Angel, and it was going to finish with him.

They heard a yell as Gunn made their way to them, jogging and waving an ax in his hands.

They smelled the blood immediately, keeping him upright as he sagged. He tried to keep his voice light as he joked about Gunn's wound, but he knew immediately that it was a mortal one. And that if Gunn tried to fight with them, he would go down almost immediately.

But Spike was sad. He would never tell any of them, but Spike cared for them. He had cared for the Scoobies, too.

When Illyria dropped down to the ground and announced that Wesley had died, Spike felt his heart sink. He had already lost Fred, and now Wesley and Gunn, soon, were going to die as well.

But he knew that was one of the consequences of being a vampire. You outlive everyone you know.

He was glad it was raining, because he started to wonder if he was crying. He couldn't really tell. But he knew Illyria was, and that she was confused at her grief over him. When she announced how she wanted more violence, it didn't surprise him.

Out of all of them, though, she might be the only one to make it out alive.

The army of thousands showed up, and the four of them stood for battle. Illyria had mentioned that Gunn would last minutes at best, but it didn't slow him down.

Angel called dibs on the dragon.

And they ran into the fray.


	3. Chapter Two: Alive Again

**Chapter Two – Alive Again**

When he awoke, it was in a dark alley. He could see that the sky was at twilight. Just the beginning of the day for a vampire.

He got up and walked out of the alley, noticing the new sights and sounds. He noticed that there were street vendors everywhere, despite it being night.

He walked up to one, and asked him what time it was, and also the date.

The man told him that the sun had just set at around eight or so, and that it was sometime in early November.

When Spike asked what year it was, the man started to laugh, before realizing that Spike was serious.

2867. Two thousand, eight hundred sixty seven. It had been over eight hundred and sixty three years since he could last remember.

The last thing he could remember was charging into battle, alongside Angel and the others.

He had saw Gunn fall within two minutes. Illyria taking on thousands of creatures at once, turning them to dusk almost instantly.

He remembered thinking that she would have been helpful back when they were fighting the First.

He himself slayed one after another. He watched as Angel managed to cut off the head of the dragon he was riding.

And as he, Angel, and Illyria stood back to back, already lasting much longer than they had all thought they would, a roar rang throughout the city. It resonated within the vampires souls, and then…

Nothing. Nothing but waking up in 2867, watching stars.


	4. Chapter Three: As The Years Pass

**Chapter Three – As The Years Pass**

It took over three hundred years for Spike to realize just how long and lonely his existence was. He spent most of it drinking.

When he had awakened after the battle, he was hit with the sudden thought that everyone he knew was dead.

Darla and Drusilla were long since dead. He couldn't feel Angel through his familial link. Not as if he was dead, but as if he was never there in the first place. Spike assumed that it meant he was stuck in another dimension.

He searched for him, for so long, but he never found him. He went to Wolfram and Hart, tortured a couple of them, but no luck. They didn't seem to know what happened either.

When he hit the year 3000, Spike gave up. Every once in a while, he would get drunk, and go off looking for him again, only to slink back to wherever he was staying a week later.

* * *

><p>Over another millennia passed before Spike realized that he ought to do something about money. And about keeping it.<p>

He started making aliases, and after he reached a certain age that he couldn't pull off being, he would 'kill' the alias and transfer all of his money into a nephew's account. A nephew who happened to look very, very similar, and had the same odd, skin disease that prevented him from going outside.

He didn't realize what he was doing with his names until it was too late.

* * *

><p>The first name he took was Don Summers. He decided that he wanted to use Buffy's name to help remember her. And, indeed, as the years passed, he start to forget what color her eyes were. How she looked like when she smiled.<p>

When Don got to old, he 'killed' him and made Alex Summers, Don's young nephew who got everything in his will.

Then he went with Terry. Then Andy. Then Will. Then Jon and Yan and Fred and Charlie and Lore and Larry and Wes and when he reached the next name he stopped. And he looked back at all his other names.

Don. Dawn.

Alex. Xander.

Terry. Tara

Andy. Andrew

Will. Willow

Jon. Joyce

Yan. Anyanka

Fred. Winifred Burkle

Charlie. Charles Gunn

Lore. Lorne

Larry. Illyria

Wes. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

Randy Giles.

When he saw the pattern he spent days drinking.

For the next years, he went by those names alone. No one had called him 'Spike' for over a millennia. He never went by Spike, or Angel, or Angelus or Angelo or Angelito. He never went by Bucky or Buddy or Buckley or whatever other male-centered version of Buffy.

But he kept theirs. He built a house, without realizing that he built it with almost the exact same layout of Buffy's house – well, what he could remember of it.

Sometimes he would enter the house and would sit with his back to the front door. And he would drink, and watch the stairs, waiting for Buffy to come walking down with bloodied hands, waiting for Dawn's relief of her sister being alive. Waiting for the rest of the Scoobies to burst through the door and hurry around Buffy.

But no one ever came.

He would see ghosts. Not real ghosts, not even the haunting kind. But he would walk around and get a fleeting memory – a laugh, a kiss. He would smell the pancakes Tara and Willow would make each morning before Dawn went to school. He would hear Dawn complaining about her homework, and he would promise her to help with History and English.

He would taste Joyce's hot chocolate, with the little marshmallows.

It wasn't the same house. It wasn't the same furniture. But it felt _real_.

And it made him feel so much more alone.


	5. Chapter Four: A Package

**Chapter Four – A Package**

Somewhere in the 42nd century, Spike got a package.

Well, that wasn't true. Spike knew exactly when he got it. He knew it down to the date and time that he opened his door and saw the package on the doorstep. He remembered the crisp night air and the hastily, badly written 'Spike' on the package.

He hadn't used that name in over a millennium.

He hardly remembered it anymore.

He picked up the package and brought it inside. He was overwhelmed by the amount of perfume in it…perfume he used to recognize.

He ripped the box open. His hands shook as he pulled the items out.

That box was filled with the most precious things in the world. He took it with him to the living room, and sat down, putting it on the coffee table.

He picked up the tape and put it in the VCR. (He had gotten technicians to create one for him. But he had no idea why until that moment. And when it actually worked, it was the best day of his life.)

Andrew sat on a toilet, framed by the bathroom walls. And he started to tell a story. Halfway through, Anya interrupted him.

Spike watched the whole recording, then rewinded it, and watched it again. And he cried.

It was everything. It was everything that Andrew had gotten on tape while they were fighting the First. It was snarky, self-absorbed Anya. It was cute, little Dawn, it was everyone. It had goofy Xander and uptight Giles and witchy Willow.

And Buffy. Beautiful Buffy. How could he have ever forgotten the color of her eyes, her beautiful hair?

He even cried when it got to him. God, how he missed being that carefree. That _happy_.

As he watched the video four, five more times, he cried and went through the box.

It had pictures. There was Buffy, Xander and Willow. Xander and Anya. Willow and Tara. Buffy, Dawn and Joyce. Him and Angel. It had pictures of a group of them. He, Buffy, Giles, Willow, Anya, Xander, Tara, and Dawn. It had Him, Angel, Fred, Gunn, Lorne and Wesley. It had Wesley and Fred, and even a picture of Illyria.

It had Buffy's favorite blue sweater. It had ten bottles worth of her perfume.

He watched the video, held Buffy's sweater, and cried, for the first time in centuries.


	6. Chapter Five: Copies

**Chapter Five - Copies**

He made copies. Of everything. He made copies of the pictures, of the tape, he got a company to start mass producing the perfume. He had pictures all over his houses, he put them in security deposit boxes around the world. He kept a small copy of every picture in his wallet.

The pictures were what stopped him from staying.

Every night, with an hour before dawn, he would grab a bottle and sit on the roof. And he would look at his pictures. And every day, he would leave.

Every day, he would look at Buffy's face and could see how she would react if she knew he was going to dust himself.

So every day, he managed to get enough strength to stop himself from running into the light. At least for another day. Because by that night, he was up on that roof again.

The pictures where what kept him alive.

They kept him waiting. What for, he didn't know.

Until the end of the 49th century.

And all of a sudden, Spike felt hope for the first time in several thousand years.


	7. Chapter Six: The Time Agency

**Chapter Six – The Time Agency**

Earth was abuzz with news. The Time Agency was building an embassy on Earth, and you could become a Time Agent yourself, if you were lucky enough!

Time Travel. For the first time, Spike had hope. He knew a bit about time travel – one of his lovers had been a scientist. Well, when he said lovers…

He hadn't loved anyone since Buffy. He would sleep with people but after a while, he would leave.

Because they were just going to die, and leave him.

But he learned – he could essentially go back to Buffy. Since he had no idea what happened during his 'Blackout', as he started calling it, he could go back and interfere. If he knew what happened, then it became a fixed point. But he didn't know anything. And even if he met himself then (which he didn't think he would, but who knows) it would be okay because he wouldn't remember any of it.

He made his way to Cardiff, and signed up.

* * *

><p>And….<p>

They didn't let him in.

He demanded again and again to be let in. He snuck on the grounds. He tried to steal a vortex manipulator. He applied continuously as different people for over two hundred years.

He tried everything he could think of, every single possibility. But nothing happened. And one day, after another failed attempt, when he grabbed his liquor and his wallet, and waited outside, he didn't come back in. He waited on the Agency's lawn, and climbed a large, ancient tree on its ground. He found himself talking to the tree as he climbed.

"Yeah, yeah," Spike grumbled. "I get it. You're old. You know what? So m' I." He climbed onto the highest branches, and found himself looking over the rolling hills of Scotland.

As he sat there, drinking and talking to himself (and the tree) he thought of Buffy. He stared at her picture. She wouldn't want him to go. And maybe if he waited another century or two, Time Travel would be more available.

But even as he thought it, he knew that it was a lie, and that he wasn't even trying.

He drowned himself in more alcohol. Maybe when he was dead, he'd see Buffy again.

But he knew that was a lie, too.

This was his last night on Earth.

And then he'd be gone. And that was okay.


	8. Chapter Seven: Jack

**Chapter Seven – Jack**

"What are you doing up there?" a young voice called from the roots of the tree.

Spike ignored it.

"Hey, aren't you that fella? The one with the weird rash?"

Spike said nothing, but he really wanted to hit this child.

"Yeah, you're the kid with the sunburning problem. You're like allergic, or you'll die or something. What are you doing in that tree? Sunrise is up in half an hour."

Spike almost snorted. Kid. Right. If only.

"You could get hurt. You should really come down."

God, does he _ever_ shut up.

"Well, fine. I'm coming up then."

He heard the boy grunting as he climbed up the tree. The boy eased himself up next to Spike.

"So, who are you?"

Spike said nothing.

"Are you deaf?"

No reply.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me your name, I'm just going to have to make one up for you," he said. "Let's see. I'll call you….John."

"John?" Spike asked, turning to him. "_John._ JOHN. Do I look like a bloody _John_ to you?"

"Ah, so the man speaks," the boy impishly grinned at him. He was in his early twenties, with brown hair, and hazel brown eyes, wearing a flirtatious smile. "Nice to meet you, John,"

"Yeah? And what do they call you?" Spike asked.

"The Face of Boe," the kid replied.

Spike snorted. "Great name. Your mother must have hated you."

"Ha ha ha. They call me the Face of Boe because I'm the first person from the Boeshane Peninsula to join the Time Agency. I'm their poster boy." He smiled, and stuck out his hand. "I'm Jack. You?"

Spike shook his hand, but turned away as he muttered, "John." It was the name he was going by when he registered at the Time Agency this time.

Jack shook his hand, and then started laughing. Not soon after, Spike joined in. And he was laughing, drunk off his ass, on top of a tree with a stranger.

He didn't remember what laughing felt like. In a way, he almost felt guilty because of it. He shouldn't be happy.

But he couldn't stop laughing. And he laughed and laughed, with Jack on the roof.

And his heart didn't feel so heavy.


	9. Chapter Eight: New Beginnings

**Chapter Eight – New Beginnings**

Jack managed to get him out of the tree and into the Time Agency's castle before the sun came up. Years later, Jack would ask him why he was going to kill himself. Spike would always shrug and say, "No idea," and he would leave it at that.

When Jack learned that the Time Agency wouldn't let Spike in because of his 'condition,' he talked with the school engineer, and managed to convince him to build a Vortex Manipulator that would shield Spike from the sun.

The man agreed, and built a prototype that allowed Spike to go through drills and training in the sunlight. If Spike qualified to become a Time Agent after that, they would supply him with his own Vortex Manipulator that would do everything a normal one would – and protect him from the sun.

The next night, Spike climbed the tree again, and waited for the sun to come up.

Jack pulled himself up next to him.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," Spike said. "M' not trying to kill me 'self, mate," he held up the Vortex Manipulator. "I'm watching the sunrise."

"For the first time in how long?" Jack asked.

Spike sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." The last time he was in the sun safely was when he had the Gem of Amarra. Then it was with the amulet, where he actually got to feel the sun before it started burning the skin off his bones. When he was with Angel, he could watch sunrises through the glass that Wolfram and Hart had. And there was that one time when he was in the demon dimension, and he could walk in the sunlight.

But all of that had been over thousands of years ago.

So they sat there, waiting for the sunrise, on top of a tree that was as old as him, and drinking beer. Amazing how, after thousands of years, beer was still there. It was a comfort that he didn't appreciate enough.

And as he watched the colors explode over the horizon, and felt heat wash over him without pain, Spike smiled.


	10. Chapter Nine: Re-Adjusting

**Chapter Nine – Re-Adjusting**

Near graduation from the Time Academy, they started taking tests through time. Spike had been there for two years now, with Jack leading the way. Jack was unlike most people he have ever met. Then again, maybe all people from the Boeshane Peninsula were like him. Spike wondered if that meant that he should head there immediately, or if he should stay far, far away from there.

At some point, Spike realized how pathetic he had become. He had spent centuries wallowing in self-pity. Maybe if he tried to do something about it, he could have gotten something done years ago. He might have been able to already be back with Buffy.

And he got better. He would never be the same as he used to be, but he got better. Jack brought out the person he was.

And Time brought out the demon in him.


	11. Chapter Ten: The Time Demon

**Chapter Ten – The Time Demon**

The first time he time traveled, he threw up.

Jack was at his side in an instant, holding him up. Jack's eyes went wide when he saw the blood coming out.

"John!" he said, staring at the blood. "You…are you…"

"M' fine," Spike coughed out, pushing him away. "M' alright."

"John, you're coughing up blood."

"M'FINE," Spike shouted. He had finally stopped coughing, but he still shook as he gathered himself up. "We time traveled, and I fell a bit sick. That's all."

Jack looked a bit upset at that.

Spike brought himself closer. "I felt a bit nauseous," he said, drawing the words out. "That's all."

Jack finally understood what he was saying: don't put this in the report. He nodded.

"Let's find the bloody scroll," Spike said.

It was the beginning of their senior year at the Academy. They were sent out on their own to follow a scavenger hunt. The times and locations were programmed into their Vortex Manipulators and locked. They couldn't get anywhere that wasn't authorized. There was a certain reset button they could press if they needed to: it would send them back to their base if they were in trouble.

"Here's ours," Jack said, pulling out their first scroll. This one would lead them to the next scroll and their first piece of the puzzle.

While Jack read the scroll out loud, Spike thought of how ridiculous this was. He was just glad that they didn't send an advisor with them. He would have reported Spike's….incident. That would have gotten him kicked out of the Academy immediately.

"What do you think?" Jack asked, when he was done.

"Hmm?" Spike asked, leaning forward and reading the scroll. "A bridge. Definitely talking about a bridge."

"Really?" Jack asked. "Cause-"

"It's a bridge," Spike said. "Now we just need to find the running water."

It didn't take long before they found the water, and then, the bridge. After some quick searching, Spike found the next scroll and the first piece of the puzzle. It was a metal shape, and he couldn't help but wonder what the hell it was making.

"Alright," Jack said, putting the piece in the bag. "Time to go to the next location." He looked over at Spike. "Brace yourself."

"L' be fine," Spike muttered, and they fizzed to a different time and a different place.

* * *

><p>The second time was worse.<p>

He threw up the rest of the blood, and then was dry heaving, all the blood gone.

He started to feel the hunger. It was worse than it had been in years.

He held up his hand, holding Jack away. Spike didn't want him to get too close. "M' fine," he said. "Just give me a bit."

When he stopped heaving, he sat up, and took out his flask, drinking a small bit of it. He felt the hunger diminish as the blood went down his throat, but not by much. He couldn't drink anymore, however, because he would just throw it up the next time. And he had to save the rest for the next times that his hunger got away from him.

"Is that really wise?" Jack asked.

"Yep," Spike said, wondering what Jack would think if he knew that he was drinking blood, not alcohol. "Let's find the next piece."

* * *

><p>It was like that again and again. All of the clues had something to do with the time and with the place they were in. The farthest they were going back was fifty years. Spike hope he didn't let on to the fact that the reason why he knew the answers to all of the poorly written riddles was because he remembered what was important about them.<p>

In total, they ended up traveling six times. The farther back they traveled, the worse it hit Spike. The first time they jumped back one year. The next, five years. After that, ten, then fifteen, then twenty. And each time, it hit him worse and worse, and his hunger was stronger than ever. When they got the last piece, they went back. While the other jumps have slightly gotten bigger, the jump from twenty years to fifty one years hit him the hardest.

He fell to his knees, shaking and throwing up what little blood he had in him left. And then he started throwing up a black ooze. Spike immediately grabbed his flask and drank all that was left. It was a good thing that he remembered that he had to travel back, or else he wouldn't have saved any after the last trip.

He couldn't help wondering that if this was what happened after fifty years, what would happen if he tried three thousand years?

Or what if he could only jump fifty years at a time? What if he had to do this again and again and again?

Spike pushed the thoughts out of his mind and hauled himself up.

"John," Jack said.

"M' fine," Spike whispered. He didn't believe it anymore. "Please. M' fine."

Jack sighed and then said, "You're fine."

They sat down in the field and molded the pieces of metal together. When they finished putting it together, it floated up in the air and moved away from them. After five feet, it stopped.

"I think it wants us to follow it," Jack said.

Spike shrugged, and they got up and followed it. "It must have a range of five feet," Jack noted. "It doesn't go farther."

"Smart of them," Spike noted.

It led them into the forest that Spike soon recognized as the one on the Academy's grounds. It wasn't long before it led them to the castle's backyard, where their instructor stood under a tree.

"Congratulations," she said. "You're the first team back. Well, the first one that completed the mission," she reached up and took the floating piece of metal out of the air.

"Some people pushed the emergency button?" Jack asked.

She nodded. "The trips didn't react well with them. Several of them threw up. One even coughed up a bit of blood. He's alright now. But they must all be dismissed as Time Agents. They will still be a part of Agency, of course, but they won't do any traveling. At least, not through time."

Spike felt a shot of fear run through him, as he looked at Jack.

Jack didn't even see it, before running off smoothly, "We felt a bit nauseous the first time, but we adjusted. We're fine now."

Spike relaxed. He knew that he could trust Jack.

He always could.

* * *

><p>That night, when he returned to his quarters, he opened his refridgeration unit and downed all of the blood in it. When he was done, he felt better. But he still felt terrible. The hunger was still there, and there was something about it that was different this time.<p>

Spike signed out and went to a demon bar, where he regularly got his blood. It was human, but bagged. It wasn't as good as from the vein, but that wasn't going to happen and it hasn't in over a couple decades. Sometimes, when he really needed to get drunk, he would find a drunk human and drink from them, before leaving them at the hospital. Alcohol affected him so much better like that. He didn't drink animal blood; it didn't do much to satisfy the hunger, even though Angel seemed to think it could.

He sat down and ordered a couple bags of blood, while drinking a glass. He finished his glass, paid, and took his bags outside.

The sun had set while he was in there.

He just wished he could have stopped it.

If it had been to drink, he could have stopped himself, taken her to the hospital, saved her life.

But it wasn't.

It was to kill.

When he saw the woman walking across the dark, deserted street, his Demon exploded, and before he knew what was happening, her dead body was in his arms.

He hadn't drank from her. He hadn't wanted her blood at all. He wanted her death.


	12. Chapter Eleven: To Kill

**Chapter Eleven – The Kill**

When he realized what he'd done, he dropped the body and ran, scooping up the blood bags as he ran.

He got back to his quarters and drank a mix of blood and beer. And then he spent the whole night awake, guiltily staring at the ceiling.

When he woke up the next day, there was a dead body next to him. He recoiled in shock, before his sense started telling him that he had to dump it. As quickly as he could, he moved the body down the river, and pushed it in. There was no bite marks, just a broken neck.

In the back of his mind, he wondered why he didn't drink from the body. Just dead.

When he got back, he drank some blood. And then he threw it out. He dumped it down the drain.

As he stood there, watching the blood wash down the drain, he didn't feel anything. His conscious told him that he should go out for a walk, cool down, but it got quieter and quieter.

He went outside, for a walk, but not because he needed to cool down.

Because he needed to kill.

He followed the woman for nine blocks before he went in. The longer he stalked her, the better his demon felt. It roared in anticipation.

He went in for the kill.

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice asked. Jack's hand was on Spike's shoulder. Just then, Spike felt his demon die out, until it was silenced.

Spike felt like himself again, and thought of what had just happened in almost a dreamlike state. Somehow, the demon shut itself down in Jack's presence.

"Nothing," he lied. "Just going for a walk."


	13. Chapter Twelve: Partners

**Chapter Twelve – Partners**

Over the rest of their senior year, Spike felt his demon getting worse and worse.

After the first time, he didn't throw up again, but he wasn't drinking blood, either. He would try, but all it would do was make him feel sick, and then he was throwing it up again.

When Jack wasn't around, it was even worse. He was killing people left and right, stealing things. He started doing drugs – not an easy thing for a vampire to do, but he still managed to get as high as a kite when he wanted to.

The Academy contemplated kicking him out. Even though he thought of Buffy, of the reason for wanting to go back, his demon didn't care. It wanted to keep doing the things it was doing.

The only reason he got to remain was because of Jack. The Academy didn't want to release him onto the world, but Jack could tame him. So Jack moved into his quarters. Jack went with him as much as possible. And when they graduated and became official Time Agents – and Spike got his special Vortex Manipulator – they were partners.

They didn't really follow the rules though.

They became con-artists, across the galaxy. They became lovers, for lack of a better term.

They became partners in just about every term of the word.

Except for the one that mattered.

In the end, Spike did love him. He really did.

It didn't really matter.

Jack still ended up dying at his hand.


	14. Part Two - Present

**The song for this section is A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. Though you might want to keep listening to To Build A Home by Cinematic Orchestra until the chapter after Spike and Buffy reunite.**

* * *

><p>Part Two - Present<p> 


	15. Chapter Thirteen: Cardiff

**Chapter Thirteen - Cardiff**

In a shimmering yellow mist, Spike stepped out of the portal. He had tracked the signal down to a simpler time on Earth. He hadn't paid attention to the date, just the whereabouts. Cardiff.

Been a while since he'd been to Cardiff.

He needed to kill someone.

* * *

><p>He heard someone shout, "Get off! I didn't do it!" and followed the voice.<p>

"Please, leave me alone!" the man said desperately. He noticed Spike walking towards him. "Help me!" he said, gesturing to the man holding him to the car, trying to cut him.

"Come any closer and I'll cut his neck," the man on top warned.

"Fine," Spike said, still walking towards them.

"What?" the man asked.

"Which artery do you normally sever?" Spike continued, coming right up to the man.

"No," the man on the bottom gasped.

"I'm not bluffing," the man with the knife warned.

"Oh, well, see now, you've given yourself away," Spike said. "Only someone who's bluffing ever says they're not."

The other man froze, almost dropping his knife, as Spike gripped him by the neck and easily raised him into the air, like he was nothing. Spike continued to the edge of the parking roof they've been on, and held the man over to the sidewalk, about four stories down.

"Oh, God! Shit! Please! Please stop!" the man shouted, holding onto Spike's arms for dear life, his legs waving around in the air.

"Well…..no," Spike said shrugging, and dropped the man.

The other one hurried over to Spike's side, looking over the railing at the man's broken body below. The blood was spreading around the pavement.

That satisfied Spike. He never drunk blood anymore; he didn't need to. He needed to spill it.

"He's dead!" the man next to him said in shock, and started to back away from Spike.

Spike's hand shot out to grab the man.

"Please," the other man said.

"I was never here," he said quite plainly, and obvious.

The other man nodded.

"Go," Spike said, releasing him. The other man hurried away.

"Thirsty now," he muttered to himself as he left the scene. He had to go find something to drink.

On the way, his Time Vortex went off. Someone else was in the vicinity. Not just any someone, but Jack. Spike's eyes widened. It's been six decades since he'd seen Jack. Once they became partners, in every way, but they stopped tricking people and gone their separate ways. And of course, since Spike could time travel and never age, it made it easier for him to go centuries in between seeing other people, from the agency.

He had to leave him a message for the body.

* * *

><p>Spike walked into the bar, needing a drink. He'd gotten Jack's voicemail.<p>

It was his kind of bar. Hot girls, good drinks.

He clicked a button on his Vortex Manipulator, and turned off the music.

"All right," he announced to the whole bar. "Now…"

"You, go. You, go. You, go." He started dismissing them. Then he noticed the next girl, "You. Stay." He turned back to the rest of the bar. "Go, go, go, stay. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go…oh," he noticed two hot blondes. He loved blondes. "Stay, stay, stay," he said to them.

They giggled. Spike returned to the survey of the rest of the bar. "Go, go, go, go, go! The rest of you, go!"

"I'll take one of everything," he said, turning to the bartender with a bit more speed than necessary. "Any questions?" he asked, turning back to the bar.

"Now, now, all right mate, let's take this outside." Two men came up to him.

Ah. Security. This was going to be a treat.

Spike smiled, "Oh," he said. "Did I mention I'm armed?"

There were screams as everyone ran for the doors.

Spike laughed. Oh, this was good.


	16. Chapter Fourteen: Bar Fights

**Chapter Fourteen – Bar Fights**

Buffy hated Cardiff.

It smelled too much like a factory, and when it wasn't smelling like oil, it was smelling like beer.

She still didn't understand why _she_ had to do this. They had hundreds of slayers at their disposal, and still, _she_ had to go. She should be back in Scotland, at their castle, training the slayers. Hell, she had two decoys pretending to be her. Send one of them.

But no. Giles had insisted that it _had_ to be her.

She sighed. She needed a drink. She wasn't meeting their client until tomorrow.

She grabbed her coat and left the hotel.

* * *

><p>Spike was waiting at the bar, drinking shots, when Jack showed up.<p>

Spike got up from his seat when Jack burst through the doors.

He felt his demon back off, as it always did around Jack. He felt like himself for the first time in a long time.

He and Jack strode over to each other, before meeting in the middle where Jack pushed Spike into a deep kiss. They grasped each other until Jack had to come up for air, Spike gasping as well, despite the fact that he didn't breathe. Spike hadn't seen Jack for over a century.

Spike socked him in the jaw.

Jack stumbled back, before retaliating, hitting Spike. The next thing he knew, they were both getting down and dirty with each other, while beating the crap out of one another.

Spike even let Jack throw him around. It's been a while since he had this much fun.

They were throwing each other through glass windows, and breaking the bar as much as possible. They finally came to a stalemate when they both had their guns out and pointed at each other.

"You're putting on weight," Spike said.

"You're losing your hair," Jack said, smirking at him.

Spike laughed. God, he missed this. "What are you wearing?" he asked. They'd both gone by hundreds of different aliases over the years.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he said. "Note the stripes."

_Back to the original name, then?_ Spike thought, before replying, "Captain John Hart. Note the sarcasm."

"Hey, I worked my way up through the ranks," Jack said.

"I bet the ranks were very grateful," Spike retorted, before sighing and saying, "I need a drink."

"I thought you'd never ask," Jack said, lowering his weapon and walking towards the bar.

Spike followed and grabbed two bottles, as opening one and drinking straight from the bottle.

"So, uh, how was rehab?" Jack asked, watching Spike drink.

Spike stopped drink, turning to smile at him. "Rehabs. Plural."

"Drink, drugs, sex, and…." Jack started.

"Murder," Spike supplied.

They started laughing. "Haha, you went to murder rehab?" Jack asked.

"I know," Spike said. "Ridiculous." He was laughing, but he really meant what he said. His soul didn't bother him anymore. It only popped out around Jack. The rest of the time, the demon took over, thanks to the time travel. The rehab had only made it worse, and when he finally got out, he showed that to them all. "The odd kill, who does it hurt?"

"You clean now?" Jack asked, smirking.

"Yeah. Kicked everything. Livin' like a priest."

Jack really laughed at that, before putting the drink down. "So. How's the Time Agency?"

"You didn't hear?" Spike asked. As Jack gave a little shake of the head, Spike continued, "It's shut down."

Jack looked at him in shock. "You're…you're kidding."

Spike slowly shook his head, saying sadly, "There's only seven of us left now."

"Wow," Jack said, taking it in.

"It's good to see you," Spike said, voicing what he thought earlier. Though good didn't begin to cover it. It was amazing to see him again. It made him feel like himself for the first time in a very long time. Well, maybe. He wasn't quite sure what _himself_ felt like anymore. "It was never the same without you," he admitted, looking deep into Jack's eyes.

Jack leaned forward and Spike readied himself for the next kiss, surprised when Jack said, "You need to go. I want you out of my territory."

"What?" Spike asked, hiding his hurt with surprise. He looked at Jack like he was nuts. "Time was you couldn't get enough of me on your territory." As he said that, he grabbed his gun on the table and shot at the two doors, sensing other nearby.

"Alright, everybody out!" he commanded. He watched as four other people entered the room, their guns in the air.

"Everything alright, Jack?" one of the girls asked. She looked like she was in her late twenties, with dark black hair. The man next to her was a bit short, with freckles, a round face and short brown hair. On the other side of the room, there was another girl, of Asian descent, with glasses on the bridge of her nose. The man next to her was taller than the other man, with dark hair and a longer face.

"It's okay, okay, okay!" Jack shouted, trying to calm the room. Not like anything could actually happen to Spike, but he didn't know that.

"You've got a team, how sweet!" Spike said, laughing. "Oh, pretty little friend," he commented, looking at the Asian woman. "No blonde, though. You need a blonde."

"God, he worse than Jack," the shorter of the two men muttered.

"Do you have a team name?" Spike asked, turning to Jack. "I love team names, go on." Anything was better than the Scoobies, or Angel Investigations.

"Torchwood," Jack said.

Well that was better than the other two. But he still had to tease him about it. "Oh? Not Excalibur? Blizzard? Bikini Cops? No. Torchwood. Oh, dear."

Jack gestured to the rest of the team, telling him their names, "Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper, meet…"

"Captain John Hart," Spike announced.

"We go back," Jack explained.

"Excuse me, we more than go back," Spike said. "We were partners," Spike explained.

"In what way?" the Ianto fellow asked.

"In every way," Spike said. "And then some."

"It was two weeks," Jack said.

"Except the two weeks was trapped in a time loop, so we were together for five years. It was like having a wife."

"You were the wife," Jack said.

"_You, _were the wife," Spike said.

"No, you were the wife." Jack said.

"Oh, but I was a good wife," Spike said, smirking. It had been pretty good when he and Jack were trapped there for a couple of years. Not a bad time in his long life at all.

"I bet you were," the Toshiko girl said.

Ianto shot her a look.

"What?" she asked him. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed. He's cute."

"They're just shy," Spike told her.

"What are you doing here," Jack said, finally getting down to business.

Spike sighed. "I was wondering when we'd get to that," he said, fingering his Vortex Manipulator.

"It's the same as yours," Toshiko noted.

"A little smaller," Jack remarked.

"But lasts, much longer," Spike remarked, before chuckling. "Get two Time Agents in the same room together, it's always about the size of the wrist strap."

"Yeah, sorry, what's a Time Agent?" Owen asked.

"What, he never told you about his past?" Spike asked.

"No, he hasn't," Gwen said, speaking up for the first time.

Spike decided to skip his original plan. This was interesting, and it's been so long since he'd seen Jack, he decided to put the diamond off for later. Jack gave him something to really live for again.

"It's going to take a lot to explain. You'll want to be somewhere where you can prepare yourself," Spike said.

"For what?" Jack asked.

"For everything," Spike said.


	17. Chapter Fifteen: The Hub

**Chapter Fifteen – The Hub**

"You live in a sculpture? Could you be anymore pretentious?" Spike asked. God, this building was like something Angelus would have lived in.

"Get on," Jack said, ignoring his comment and pointing on the sidewalk he was standing on.

"So your team's not allowed in this way?" Spike asked.

"This is the entrance for tourists," Jack said to him.

Spike snorted. "I remember the last time you said that."

The ground rocked underneath him, slowly sinking into the ground. "Where...?"

Jack just smirked at him.

* * *

><p>"It's roomy, I'll give you that," Spike commented as he saw their HQ. "Your taste in interior design hasn't gotten any better though. What is this, sewer chic?"<p>

Jack gave a little laugh. He got off of the platform and stopped Spike from getting off.

"Weapons," he explained.

Spike pulled out his guns and his sword.

"All of them," Jack said.

"You know me. Two weapon kind of guy," Spike said.

As Gwen started reading out the other weapons he had on his body, he rolled his eyes, saying, "Fine," before pulling them all out.

"Now, why don't we get down to business," Jack said.

Spike smirked. He remembered the last time he'd said that.

* * *

><p>They sat around the conference room, as Spike began to explain what happened.<p>

"First, I want you to know that I followed someone here," Spike said quietly.

"Who?" Jack asked.

"You're not going to be happy about it," Spike warned.

"I can take it," Jack said.

"Not so sure _I_ can," Spike muttered. "I promise I'm not lying," he said louder. Jack gave him a nod to go on. Spike looked at the screen. He didn't want to be facing Jack when he explained this.

"It's-" Spike froze as he saw the numbers in the corner of the screen. "What are those numbers?" he asked, pointing to them.

"That's the date," Gwen said, giving him a weird look.

Not even realizing it, Spike began to shake.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked him. He didn't understand. Spike should have known the date when he got here, unless he simply locked on to the signal from the person he followed. But it should have still read the date when he landed, unless he didn't look at it.

Why wouldn't he look at it?

"I need to go," Spike said, getting up, knocking his chair over as he ran for the door.

"What? John, wait!" Jack turned to go after him.

* * *

><p>He ran back into the room a few minutes later. "He's gone," Jack said.<p>

"So what, we're just going to let him go?" Gwen asked.

"No. We're going to follow him. But everyone keep your distance. He can tell when people are close enough."

Grabbing the equipment they needed to properly spy on John, Torchwood left the building.


	18. Chapter Sixteen: Meeting

**Chapter Sixteen – Meeting**

Spike left the Hub as quickly as he could, getting far enough away that he thought they couldn't watch him any more with their technology.

He found himself in an alley, kicking a dumpster before punching the wall in front of him. He kept hitting and hitting, until he grew exhausted and he collapsed on his knees, his hands bloody, tears streaming down his face.

Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched. On one side, there was Torchwood, and on the other was a woman.

Spike collapsed, crying. He had finally made it. He had tried so hard to end up here, but he couldn't go past 2500. Yet he managed to get here by tagging along with residual energy. Wiping away his tears, he got up, ready to stride away, before a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Spike?"

He froze, unable to take another step. No…it couldn't…could it?

"Spike?" she said again.

Slowly he turned around, looking at her. The sight of her took his breath away. Not that he had any to begin with.

"Buffy?" he tried to say, but his voice didn't work. His lips moved, but nothing came out. He swallowed and tried again.

"Buffy?" he whispered, the name barely passing his lips, but still loud enough for her to hear it. And for the group of five hidden from both of them, listening in on them.

Jack was shocked. He didn't think that John had come here before, and if he had, why hadn't he mentioned it? Also, _Spike_? They'd both gone by some pretty ridiculous names in the past, but his was a new one.

"What are you wearing?" Buffy said. She was frozen, staring at her lost lover. For months he had haunted her memories. She kept going to that moment at the end. How he hadn't believed her when she said that she loved him. And she wondered if she was right. If she said it because it was her last words to a dying man, a man who deserved to hear it? Or did she really love him?

But she sees him again, and those were her first words? Really? But she hadn't known what to really say. He was so different. Instead of his usual black, he wore some sort of red jacket. His hair was no longer bleached blonde, it was a mousy brownish color. She guessed it was his original hair color. But his face? His face wore lines on it, and his eyes were full of pain.

This was not the same Spike.

She wondered if he was in a hell dimension, and if he got out, like Angel did. But he looked different from that, Angel was like a wild animal. Spike looked…broken.

He completely ignored her question, staring at her with those wide eyes, as if he thought that she would disappear with a blink. He didn't move to touch her, he didn't do anything but stare at her.

He looked worse than he did after he got his soul back.

Slowly, she reached her hand up to his face, lightly touching his cheek. The dam broke, and then he was crying in her arms, speaking but not making any sense.

"Let's take you home," Buffy said. She helped him up and started leading him away from the alley, presumably towards wherever she was staying.

Spike didn't say anything. He was still crying. He was in her arms.

To him, he was already home.


	19. Chapter Seventeen: Sleep

**Chapter Seventeen - Sleep**

When Buffy got to the hotel, she brought Spike upstairs and sat him down on her bed.

"Get some sleep," she said, kissing his forehead lightly, before turning to go away. As she left, his hand caught hers, and she looked up into his eyes. For the first time, he had really been responsive.

"Don't leave me," he said, his voice hoarse from crying. "Please. Don't go."

Buffy hesitated, before taking his hand in hers and saying, "I need to do a few things. I'll join you again in a bit."

He nodded and settled down, slowly taking off his jacket.

Buffy went into the bathroom, and prepared herself for bed. She still didn't need to meet her contact for several days. Which was good because she didn't think that she could leave Spike in his current condition.

Spike. Oh god. Spike. She put her head in her hands and started to cry. What do you do when a dead lover shows up at your door? How was he even alive? How long had he been alive, what had happened to him? He looked like he'd gone through…hell. Her stomach lurched. What if he'd been in Hell? Oh god.

She managed to stop crying and calm herself. He isn't in Hell anymore, she told herself. Of course, it didn't help when she left the bathroom and saw Spike. No. A broken, exhausted, version of Spike. She remembered the old Spike, who would smile and laugh at the things she did, who would make a bunch of rude comments and be the perfect gentleman. She wondered if she would ever really get him back again.

Or if he would just be a shell for the rest of his life.


	20. Chapter Eighteen: The Old Me

**Chapter Eighteen – The Old Me**

She woke up when she felt Spike shaking beside her. He was crying in his sleep, and letting out a soft, whimpering sound.

"Spike," she said, shaking him. "Spike, wake up."

His eyes shot open, and he grabbed her, his muscles tensed, ready to fight, before settling down when he realized who it was.

"Buffy?" He whispered slightly, staring at her with wide eyes, before grabbing her and pulling her close, hugging her like he was holding on to dear life. And for all she knew, he was. He was crying, holding onto her, and she heard him mutter to himself, "You're real. It's real. I'm here."

She froze for a second in his arms, before relaxing and hugging him back. It's been months since she'd last see him, and being in his arms felt…safe. Despite everything that had occurred between them, she and Spike had finally been at peace with each other during their last days on the Hellmouth.

There was a knock on the door.

Spike froze.

"Shh," Buffy said. "It's just a friend."

_A friend? He didn't have any friends,_ he thought.

She went to the door and pulled it open, a familiar voice drifting his way as someone entered. "I still don't understand what you need all of these things for. Men's clothes and bleach? Its odd for you to-" Giles voice broke off as he spotted who was on the bed. He dropped the bags of groceries on the floor.

"Oh, dear Lord," he said, taking of his glasses, and cleaning them. He put them back on again, saw that he could still see Spike, and went back to cleaning his glasses.

"I found him," Buffy said quietly. "I thought that getting these sorts of things would help him feel more comfortable, but I was afraid to leave him alone. Thank you for bringing them."

"Buffy, I – does he – what happened to him?" Giles asked.

"I don't know," Buffy said, before continuing, "Thank you, Giles. We'll see you again later."

She pushed a stammering Giles out the door, before closing it and locking it.

Then she walked slowly back to Spike. "Spike?" she asked quietly. "Do you want me to bleach your hair?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I s'pose."

Buffy sighed, and led him to the bathroom, where she stripped his shirt off. He sat there patiently as she brushed his hair out.

He didn't really care if he had his hair bleached or not. He was sort of…stunned. In shock, by the most recent turn of events.

Buffy leaned him over the bathtub, where she put gloves on and ran the bleach through his hair several times, before wrapping it up in aluminum foil to let it sit.

They sat there in the bathroom, waiting for the bleach to settle. For the first time in a long time, Spike was able to keep a lid on his demon. He felt more peaceful than he had in a long time.

Buffy reached over and grabbed the other bag.

"I have jeans and some shirts," she said, running through them. "Do you want them?" she passed the bag over to him.

He looked in them and shrugged, before saying the same thing as earlier. "Doesn't matter. I s'pose." They were standard variety black T-shirts and black jeans, with a red, blue, and purple shirt thrown in.

Buffy sighed, and then asked, "When was the last time you've eaten?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The last time you drank blood?" she asked.

He paused, counting in his head. "Eighty years ago. Give or take. I don't need blood anymore."

"Eighty? What happened?" Buffy asked, aghast.

"It's a long story," Spike said.

"I've got time," Buffy replied. Though it wasn't necessarily true, but for right now, she was putting a hold on everything unless it was Apocalypse big. Spike was front and center now.

"I don't want to tell it," Spike said, looking away.

"That's fine," Buffy said, slightly disappointed. "Tell me when you're ready."

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," Spike murmured so quietly Buffy almost missed it.

"Do you have a bad reaction to blood?" Buffy asked.

"No," Spike said. "I just…don't need it," he said.

"Well, you're still getting some," she said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

A minute later, she walked into the room with a glass of fresh blood in her hands. Spike's eyes widened at the smell.

"Here," Buffy said, squatting down next to him. She handed the glass towards him.

Spike refused to take it. "No, Buffy! 'M not drinking that!"

"Why?" she asked.

"'Cause it's yours!" Spike said. "And I don't even need blood!" This was the most animated Buffy had seen him, other than his crying from earlier.

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said. "Drink it. It will help you get better. And it's not like it's going back in the vein."

"Buffy, I…" Spike wasn't able to finish. After all this time, he still loved her, and he loved her even more for this. He didn't deserve a gift as special as her blood, not after everything that happened. But she still offered.

"Drink. Please," Buffy said. "For me." She knew that those words were going to be what it took for him to drink it.

Spike sighed, and took the glass from her, before raising it to his lips. A thought passed through his mind after the first wave of blood passed his lips; _What if I lose control of my demon and hurt her?_, but he was overwhelmed with the taste of her blood. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, and he felt his soul take more control over the demon that was in charge so frequently.

When he lowered the empty glass, he looked into Buffy's eyes.

"Better?" she asked, smiling.

"Better," he replied, weakly smiling back at her.

And this time, he wasn't actually lying.


	21. Chapter Nineteen: Quick Question

**Chapter Nineteen - Quick Question**

The timer went off, and Buffy washed the bleach out of his hair. It wasn't enough to create the contrast they needed, so they did it a second time.

"I think we're going to need more peroxide," Buffy joked.

She got no response from Spike. He stayed where he was off in his thoughts.

"Spike," Buffy said. "Sooner or later I'm going to have to go back to Scotland-"

Spike's head shot up at that, worried that he lost her again, and that this was all for nothing, and god, he was pathetic.

"Will you come with me?" she finished.

If he had a heartbeat, it would've stopped. For the hundredth time in the past two days. _She wanted him to come with her_.

Silently, he nodded.

She brightened. "Good. Then I'll just call Giles and tell him to take over here, and we're just gonna hop right back over to Scotland."

He nodded. She left the room, pulling out a cell phone and dialing a number. He heard Giles answer on the other end and Buffy bustled around, packing her stuff.

As much as he was dying to see everyone again – even Harris, despite how much they hated each other – he wasn't really sure that it would be great for him to walk into a…castle of Slayers. I mean, yeah, he did save the world from ending a couple of times, but he also killed two Slayers. He wasn't exactly going to be welcomed back with open arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Chanukah everyone! You'll be getting more posts. I meant to do this yesterday, but no internet.<strong>


	22. Chapter Twenty: Arrival

**Chapter Twenty – Arrival**

Spike looked up at the castle and laughed.

When Buffy said that their home base was a castle, he thought it was funny, but this?

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked immediately, parking the car as they brought it up to the drive. "Spike? What's wrong?"

Through his coughing, Spike managed to spit out, "Nothing." His laughing came out wheezing, and his vision blurred.

"You're crying," Buffy said, reaching out lightly to touch Spike. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"No," Spike said. "This is all a dream. That's why this is so funny," he gestured to the castle. "That's proof that it's a dream. My subconscious is taking my memories and shoving them together to create this…dream."

"Spike," Buffy said gently. "It's not a dream. This is real. You're here." She glanced up at the castle. "We don't need to go in right away," she said softly. "We can go in when you're ready."

"No," Spike stopped wheezing. "Let's do this."

Before Buffy could even unbuckle, Spike was out of the car and headed towards the entrance.

"Dammit," Buffy swore, fumbling with her seatbelt until she managed to unbuckle, running after Spike.

She caught up with him at the entrance, "Spike, wait." She tugged at his elbow, pulling him to face her.

"What is it, Slayer?" Spike asked. For a second, he almost sounded like his old self.

"You could get hurt," Buffy said.

Spike shrugged. The sanity that showed vanished. "It doesn't matter, does it? After, this is all a dream."

"It's not a damn dream!" Buffy nearly shouted at him. "Would you please just stop?"

"No, Buffy," Spike said, and his sanity came back. And she saw what happened behind his eyes. When he was sane…he was broken. He didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered to him.

Putting him back together would take a lot of work.

"If I stop," Spike continued, "I fall apart. Because this isn't real. It's NOT." He looked away from her, and quietly whispered, "It can't be."

"Why not?" Buffy asked.

He looked at her, surprised that she heard him. "Because I don't deserve it," he said, so plainly he could have been talking about the weather. He shrugged. "It's why it's a dream."

He turned to go back inside.

Buffy grabbed his arm again. And she was angry. "Don't you dare give me this line," she told him angrily. "Angel fed me this line too much. Don't be him."

"But I don't deserve it," Spike said. "That's was my punishment."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Buffy asked. She hasn't been this mad in a long time.

He tilted his head at her. "I was alone for so long. That's why this isn't real. I've just gone crazy. It makes more sense."

Before she had time to tell him that everything he said didn't make sense, he turned and walked into the castle.


End file.
